


fall apart (be alright)

by nebulyx



Series: colored indigo, inscribed with my name, lined in cedar [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: (this is based on my eating disorder. please keep your mean opinions to your selves), All Your Faves Are Queer, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polycules, Recovering From Abusive Family, Soft Zelda, This is an EXPLICITLY Poly fic in an EXPLICITLY Poly universe, Triforce Triad, Why Love Triangle When Happy Polyamory is RIGHT THERE???, patchwork families, tags to be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24298504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulyx/pseuds/nebulyx
Summary: Righting the uncomfortable chair she’d toppled in her haste to get to the intercom, she clicked the little fairy icon, expanding the window.The chat notification was a glaring red1next to a chat titledTHE CAUSE OF ZELDA’S ANXIETIES.Zelda frowned lightly.
Relationships: Ganondorf/Link (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf/Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: colored indigo, inscribed with my name, lined in cedar [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754185
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	fall apart (be alright)

**Author's Note:**

> My niche genre is "Self-Indulgent Nonsense" and today's flavor is polyshipping and running away to live with the partners of your dreams, but slowburn.

Rejection letters, however politely and professionally worded, were incredibly hurtful. Skimming over another _we’re grateful that you took the time to interview with us, but have chosen a candidate that better suits what we’re looking for_ email, Zelda took a steadying breath.

She was a young woman in Greater Hyrule, one who had chosen not to use her father’s name or political influence to get through her life and into a cushy position where she didn’t use her degree, but made more money than she knew what to do with. A candidate who better suited the job requirements surely meant a blue blood male of Hylian lineage, surely another trust fund kid like herself, but one who actually lived off of their parents’ dime. She was just a young librarian with a Calatian name, however blue blooded a name it was.

She was trying her damnedest not to break down again. She was in her seventh month of job hunting, her third of living back in her father’s home, Hyrule Castle, and was running low on both funds and the emotional wherewithal to continue her thus-far fruitless mission. In the meantime, her father was back to his old habits, picked up when her mother had passed away and seen as proper parenting technique to push Zelda to be the best that she could be.

Running out of money and thus out of time, the young woman found that being back in an abusive household after having successfully getting out was making her feel a lot more worthless than the job hunt was.

Dragging the email to the proper folder, Zelda collapsed the window and looked out her window, sighing at the dreary grey sky. It was as if nature had decided to match her mood, and it was terrible.

Her hands clenched into tight fists against the top of her desk, so tight that she felt like her bones might crack. Blunt as her manicured nails were, they felt as though they were biting into her palms, on the verge of biting through her soft skin. Feeling melodramatic at the notion, she flexed her hands as she unclenched them, lowering her head to rest in them. The worst part about being so stressed was that she felt as though she could not find comfort or peace in just being, constantly fidgeting.

Of course, her father was all about posture and impressions, and had been quick to subtly jab her to tell her to mind her hands, stand up straighter, _stop fidgeting so much, Zelda, you’re a Bosphoramus for Hylia’s sake,_ ever since she was a child.

The sound of her Proxi window pinging an alert startled her into sitting bolt upright at her desk, but the sound of her bedroom’s intercom going off at the same time had her stumbling to her feet, slamming her knee into the floor as she tripped in her haste.

_Miss Zelda, your father has asked me to inform you that dinner will be served in ten minutes, exactly. He asks that I remind you to be_ _ **prompt**_ _this time._

The tone of the newest faceless assistant made something in the young woman burn like a cigarette tossed from a car window. She jabbed her finger into the return button, and much as she wanted to tell the assistant where her father could shove his dinner, the words that left her were polite and resigned, ever the picture perfect politician’s daughter.

“Thank you. I’ll be right down.”

Her dinner was sure to be pathetic and plain, while her father’s was decadent and rich. He’d done it a lot after her mother died, harping on her weight and appearance, wanting her to be the perfect Princess, and then when that spiraled, harping on her introversion and preference for her books and stories. The thought made her stomach clench in unanswered need, in memory of days and nights spent going hungrier than a growing child should have been, of limited outings spent sipping water or chewing gum. When she developed an eating disorder, it had been a moral failing on her part, not a product of her father’s parenting. She had gotten out. She had gotten better. And now she was back, and she was fat, nevermind the fact that she always had been and it was healthier for her to be so because that was simply how her body was happy being.

Taking another breath, the young woman checked the time, swallowed the thought of sitting through what was bound to be another invasive, awful mockery of a family meal with her father, and stepped to her desk once more. Righting the uncomfortable chair she’d toppled in her haste to get to the intercom, she clicked the little fairy icon, expanding the window.

The chat notification was a glaring red **1** next to a chat titled _**THE CAUSE OF ZELDA’S ANXIETIES**_.

Zelda frowned lightly.

The chat had existed since the summer before her freshman year of college, a way for her, Ganon, and Link to keep contact outside of their shared event calendar. Ganon was going to her university, at least for undergrad studies, while Link was off to Tabantha and Hebra for internships, taking the choice of a trade over higher education. Recently, the group chat had been pretty inactive, save for the occasional _Happy Birthday!_ or _thinking of you, hope things are well_ or other wishes of joy and content. 

The blonde was not surprised by the quiet, really. It was easier for Gan and Link to communicate, as they had been living together and seeing each other for some years now. Add to that the political climate of Hyrule and Gerudo in the last five years almost, and it was no wonder they had been out of contact for so long.

She could have reached out, too. It was just… hard… feeling like even your friends didn’t want you.

They were on the ground in Ordona, a small territory south of Lurelin’s more coastal community. It was a farming archipelago known primarily for its fiber animals and tropical fruits, as well as its artisans. Her mother had hailed from the smallest of the islands, called Ordon after the territory. The whole of the community had suffered from devastating fires that decimated residential and commercial areas, crippling the economy and the community as well. When Ordona called for aid, Hyrule -their former colonialist governing body after willful ignorance of a treaty and manifest destiny saw the land taken from Calatian rule- did not answer. In fact, Zelda distinctly remembered her father had dismissed the issue entirely. It could not possibly have been lower on his list of priorities.

The only reason Ordona was beginning to recover now was because of the Gerudo Confederation stepping in. Lady Urbosa, the current chief of the Gerudo Desert tribe, had been a trusted friend of Cordelia Bosphoramus, Zelda’s late mother. She would not let the home of a woman she loved so dearly continue to rot in the aftermath of burning.

Zelda had not been privy to the conversation that had happened between her father and the other leaders of the Gerudo Confederation, nor of the agreements that had been made within that meeting, but Ordona was made part of Geldo territory as Greater Calatia had been before it and the rebuilding efforts started immediately. Her friends, her only friends, had gone with, and that had been the last she had heard of them. She had worked to impress her father and maintain her job since, and what had it been for?

Double-tapping the trackpad, the screen moved from the post login menu to the conversation. 

♚ _**h31mAr0cK**_ ♚ _ **:**_ _@zelda! @kingdekuscrub and I are in Castle Town for the weekend before heading back to Ordona for more work this summer! Link said to ask if you wanted to meet for lunch. Mother wanted to invite you to come back and do some community organizing and volunteer work with us on the islands as well._

That was it, no number to call -it hadn’t changed- or request to message back when she saw it. It was an invitation that didn’t have to mean anything more. Ganon knew her well and Link did too; they offered, invited, and didn’t pester her for responses. It felt bad sometimes, but glancing around at her childhood bedroom turned prison, she couldn’t help but understand why they handled her like she was so fragile.

Leaning over the laptop, her response was prompt and simple.

  
_**Zelda:** _ _dinner with dad. Be back later._

Immediately, both of their names came up as typing. She closed the lid of her laptop and left her phone next to it, not wanting to fuss over whatever their responses were while she was dining with her father, though _dine_ was generous at best. Her father hated for her to look at her phone in his presence, so it was for the best anyway.

Zelda made quick time, uncomfortable in the walls of her father’s home, her paternal family’s ancestral castle. The portraits on the walls were terrifying and had been since she was a child, but her father’s portrait was the most frightening of all. All stark colors and hard lines, she averted her gaze as she passed it, her skin crawling under the hard stare. The portrait was an image right out of her nightmares; there were no pictures of her father before her mother’s death, no smiles to be found. All Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule had for anyone, especially her, was cold scowls and _colder_ , disapproving eyes. 

The same eyes fell on her when she entered the smaller dining room. 

Zelda could feel herself cringe, but tried not to let her discomfort show as she walked to her father’s side and pressed a kiss to the bearded cheek that he offered. 

“Busy day?” He asked as if he planned to berate her regardless of what she had done that day. 

As Zelda took her seat at the table, she mulled over her activities of the day. She had tried to work on her latest knitting project, had gone for a workout and a swim after when the dysphoria told her that she was not done, and then she had settled to work on the emails. 

“I went to the gym and focused on job hunting,” she told her father, keeping it short and sweet.

Though those had been the things that he asked of her, demanded of her, Zelda knew that the hum that he replied with was derisive, that no matter what she did, he would not be pleased with her and her lack of progress. She did not have the chance to defend herself or her actions, as the wait staff began to bring in their evening meal.

She was not surprised to see the bland meal before her, grilled chicken and zucchini, tucking in as patiently as she could, though she knew damn well that she would be hungry after. At least there was garlic on everything this time.

The door was barely closed before it started this time.

“Are you intending on loafing around for the rest of the summer, Zelda?” It was not a question. “Are you not done trying to play at scholar?”

The chicken soured in her mouth, the young woman putting her fork down. 

“I am doing the best that I can-“

“And we see how well that is going for you,” her father interjected. 

“I received an invitation to aid in rebuilding efforts in Ordona, from Urbosa’s son-“

“You know that I don’t like that boy, or his little _fairy_ pet,” he snapped, with an air of finality. “You will decline the invitation, and I will schedule an interview with Chancellor Cole for a secretarial position for you.”

That was the end of discussion, but not the end of the abuse. It never was. She sat quietly under each barb, knowing well that the castle nutritionist would not be pleased with how she was doing, but not for the reasons that her father was. After insisting that she would try harder, do better, even through the pathetic tears that threatened to choke her, she was dismissed. 

She climbed the stairs to her room and locked the door behind her. Her father would be in meetings until mid afternoon the next day, and if Gan and Link were determined to leave Castle Town immediately after seeing her, they could make it work. 

Snatching up her phone, the notifications on her screen were her two best friends insisting that they hear from her so they knew that she was okay. 

Her response was just as short as the one before. 

_**Zelda:** _ _Breakfast instead?_

She had pulled out her suitcase and started folding her clothing for optimal space usage that her phone chimed again from her nightstand.

♘ _ **kingdekuscrub**_ ♘ _ **:**_ _breakfast sounds great_

♘ _ **kingdekuscrub**_ ♘ _ **:**_ _when + where?_

Zelda paused, taking a moment. There were a number of places in Castle Town that had decent breakfast, something that both men knew from their time as students and visitors at CTU. It was with a tender fondness that she remembered long nights studying over terrible, delicious food and endless coffee refills. Those had been some of her best nights since her mother left them.

_**Zelda:** _ _Stock Pot Diner, 7am_

_**Zelda:** _ _That’s when Ma bakes the first batch of cinnamon rolls._

♚ _**h31mAr0cK**_ ♚ _ **:**_ _I’d kill for one of Ma’s cinnamon rolls._

♘ _ **kingdekuscrub**_ ♘: _typical weekend escape plan?_

  
  


Zelda frowned at the screen, fingers tapping a bit more furiously than she ever would have normally.

  
  


_**Zelda: Please.** _ _I’ll meet you guys at the gym and we can go from there._

  
  


The only messages after that were the pair of them agreeing to her terms, and Link wishing her sweet dreams, as he always did when signing off. Tonight, it didn’t make her feel any better, making her wish that the morning would come swiftly.


End file.
